Tuesday, July 23, 2013

I'd would like to thank everybody for the birthday greetings and wishes. This was the "big five zero", for me. I don't really celebrate or do anything particularly special for my birthday. In fact, this birthday fell on a bit of a somber note. For those of you that have visited my home, you may remember my canine friend, Booger. Last night, following a brief illness, Booger passed away. She was a great friend and a wonderful companion. Much of her time was spent along my side and here in the office. One thing I never expected to be doing on my birthday was to be digging a grave. Such is life. A couple of months ago, Booger was still chasing cats and barking at Mexicans. She slowed down some, with the onset of monsoon season. She didn't finish her food and didn't feel like going outside. She slept most of the time and I knew she was sick. Given her age, I was concerned. At around 7:00 pm she refused water and her breathing became labored. She was gone a few minutes later.When I first moved to Maricopa 20 years ago, I acquired a black Labrador Retriever, after responding to a notice on a bulletin board advertising free puppies at the Farmers Convenience Store. Bonehead eventually impregnated a local shepherd/bloodhound mix that was owned by the two gay guys that lived up the road and produced a little of seven pups, who were born under my bedroom. Out of the bunch, Booger was the only brown one. All of her siblings were black. I kept her and decided to call her Booger.

She did earn that name. Once, she stole a cell phone and a cigarette from a couple of my guests. She ran off as they tried to chase her. We all laughed because Booger had the cigarette in her mouth filter grasped between her lips. It looked like she was going to smoke it. Sometimes, I would have to crawl under my place in the 26" high space occupied by scorpions and black widows to retrieve my shoes, brooms and other thing Booger would drag under there. She had a curious habit of tilting her head when she looked at people. She was always sizing things up.Booger and I spent countless hours in my office, while I took care of party business, edited photographs and browsed the internet. She was a most loyal and loving companion. In her younger years, Booger was a good mouser. I don't fondly remember Booger bringing me dead dog spit soaked mice and presenting them to me. Perhaps, one of the things I'll miss the most is when she would be laying on the floor and start banging her tail in happiness for no particular reason. A great friend, she was.Monday, July 22, 2013: The Short End of the StickOnce again, it was time for me to do a guest spot on Mike Harris' "The Short End of the Stick" via the Rense Radio Network. During this broadcast, I updated listeners on the drug and human smuggling activities in the infamous Vekol Valley.

With the onset of monsoon season and unusually high temperatures pushing towards 120 degrees, poorly prepared drug smugglers and illegal aliens are finding themselves, either dead or begging law enforcement to come and rescue them. I also advised our listeners that heroin and other dangerous drugs are making their way through the Vekol Valley. Recent patrols have discovered Styrofoam insulation among the burlap, rags and twine discarded by the smugglers, once they reach their destinations near Interstate 8. During the second hour, we talked about our miserably failed decades long social experiment known as "Integration". We both agreed that it was an "unmitigated failure" and even the black community was better off during the segregation days. Finally, we brought up the media circus known as the Zimmerman trial. I brought up several possible explanations for the intense coverage this story has generated. First, it was intended to continue the racial and class divide that is the cornerstone of the Obama Administration. Secondly, the media frenzy was a distraction to keep our attention away from the economy, unemployment and our failed foreign policy blunders around the globe. George Zimmerman Emerged From Hiding for Truck Crash RescueZimmerman was one of two men who came to the aid of Dana and Mark Gerstle and their two children, who were trapped inside a blue Ford Explorer SUV that had rolled over after traveling off the highway in Sanford, Fla. at approximately 5:45 pm. Thursday, the Seminole County Sheriff's Office said in a statement. Full Article

According to Sanford police, the crash occurred at the intersection of I-4 and route 417. The crash site is less than a mile from where he shot Trayvon Martin. Additional details: The overturned vehicle contained a family, not just the driver. It happened four days after his acquittal and before all of the Negro protests on Saturday. Why do you think the media sat on this story? Of course, the media is trying to keep this silent. They don't want people to know who the real George Zimmerman is because it demolishes the "monster" image that they have spent more than a year constructing. It'll end up being his fault, somehow... just watch. They will probably file charges against him for forcing someone out of a vehicle, and trump it up to car jacking. No good deed goes unpunished. Hopefully, George will figure this out, before somebody files another false charge against him. From the left... Link

This reminds me of the time I did the humanitarian thing and helped rescue people in distress. They were illegal aliens. J.T. Ready, myself and others provided water and after notifying the U.S. Border Patrol, provided transportation for a group of "weary travelers" about to die from dehydration. Not long after that, the SPLC profiled me on "Hatewatch" and others wrote hit pieces accusing us of kidnapping and water boarding the "poor immigrants". Almost immediately after the story broke, Trayvon Martin supporters concocted some idiotic idea that George Zimmerman was riding around in his car with a police scanner, waiting for the right accident to take place, so he can be a "hero" and sway public opinion in his favor. It won't be long before Eric Holder starts accusing him of causing the accident."Let a man never stir on his road a step without his weapons of war; for unsure is the knowing when need shall arise of a spear on the way without." --Havamal, V. 38

Booger

May 21, 2011

Ak Chin Regional Airport

Booger

December 9, 2011

Bonehead

1993-2010

Bailey

March 26, 2011

Bailey

June 15, 2012

Blondie

June 7, 2012

Booger R.I.P.

July 4, 2000 - July 19, 2013

Quotations

We can have peace and security only as long as we band together to preserve that most priceless possession, our inheritance of European blood, only so long as we guard ourselves against dilution by foreign races. It is time to turn from our quarrels and to build our White ramparts again. This alliance with foreign races means nothing but death to us. It is our turn to guard our heritage..before we become engulfed in a limitless foreign sea.

--Charles A. Lindbergh Readers Digest, Nov. 1939

Rudyard Kipling's Insight

The Wrath of the Awakened Saxon

It was not part of their blood It came to them very lateWith long arrears to make good,When the SAXONS began to hate,

They were not easily moved,They were icy-willing to waitTill every count should be proved

Ere the SAXONS began to hate.Their voices were even and low,Their eyes were level and straight,There was neither sign nor show,

When the SAXONS began to hate.It was not preached to the crowdIt was not taught by the State,No man spoke it aloud,When the SAXONS began to hate.

It was not suddenly bred,It will not swiftly abateThrough the chilled years aheadWhen Time shall count from the dateThat the SAXONS began to hate."

The Strangerby Rudyard Kipling (1908.. but timeless perspective on immigration.)

The Stranger within my gate,He may be true or kind,But he does not talk my talk—I cannot feel his mind.I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,But not the soul behind.

The men of my own stock,They may do ill or well,But they tell the lies I am wonted to,They are used to the lies I tell;And we do not need interpretersWhen we go to buy or sell.

The Stranger within my gates,He may be evil or good,But I cannot tell what powers control—What reasons sway his mood;Nor when the Gods of his far-off landShall repossess his blood.

The men of my own stock,Bitter bad they may be,But, at least, they hear the things I hear,And see the things I see;And whatever I think of them and their likes

They think of the likes of me.This was my father's beliefAnd this is also mine:Let the corn be all one sheaf—

And the grapes be all one vine,Ere our children's teeth are set on edgeBy bitter bread and wine.

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